


The Only Sound That’s Left After The Ambulances Go

by specialagentwoodfinch



Series: Island [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: A lot of pain, Addiction, Animal Death, Animal Mutilation, Brothers, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Domestic Bliss, Established Relationship, Facial Disfigurement, Funeral, Homophobic Bullying, Homophobic Language, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Sorry, Injury, Island life, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Original male/female characters - Freeform, Outdoor Sex, Peril, Protective Siblings, Recovery, Rescue, Siblings, Torture, Trauma, Violence, Weather, Wildlife, these tags are a Lot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 04:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29521062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/specialagentwoodfinch/pseuds/specialagentwoodfinch
Summary: The past comes back to haunt both residents of the lonely island and risks tearing both their lives apart.Sequel to Would You Kill Me In My Sleep?Another mystery in the Island AU.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Series: Island [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2159487
Comments: 37
Kudos: 17





	1. Chapter One: The Past Don’t Mean Shit To Me

**Author's Note:**

> Work title from Desolation Row by Bob Dylan (but when I sing it in my head it sounds like My Chemical Romance). 
> 
> Chapter title from Oceans by Frank Iero and the Patience
> 
> *****  
> This story is all written. I am afraid that the peace of the lonely island is going to be shattered again. I hope you enjoy where this series goes next.  
> You can read this as a stand-alone story but it will make more sense if you read Would You Kill Me In My Sleep? first.

_“Get up, fag.”_

_“Fuck off,” Frank spits through bloodied teeth._

_“You want more of this, cocksucker?”_

_Another kick, this time to the stomach, winds Frank, bends him double. When the air makes it back into his heaving lungs, he straightens up. Looks at his attacker directly, eyes hooded and dark._

_“Beating me won’t change me. You just hate me because … ah, fuck … you want a piece of this and it disgusts you.”_

_He doesn’t see the fist to his chin coming but he feels it. The cracking blow, the whiplash, red blooming across his vision, then blackness and nothing._

*****

Frank pushes open the kitchen door with his hip. His hands are stacked high with logs for the stove and his face instantly heats with the contrast from the blistering wind outside.

He pauses for just a moment. Just long enough to allow Mercado to dart inside. She likes to follow him everywhere and it has only taken two years to learn that if he gives her a moment to dash past him she won’t trip him up. He heaves the logs into the living room and noisily clatters them into the log basket. He sniffs as a droplet of freezing water on the tip of his nose drips onto the well worn rug. Mercado is already curled up and purring on the couch. He strolls through to the kitchen, makes two steaming mugs of coffee and takes them up the spiral staircase to Gerard’s studio. He nudges the door open quietly and eases himself into the twilight gloom. Gerard is facing away from him, sitting curled and intently focused on the clay he is shaping.

Frank wafts the coffee near his nose.

“Mmmm. I didn’t realise it was so late,” Gerard murmurs as he stands to take the drink and warm his chilled hands.

“You’ve been at that for hours.”

Gerard smiles. “The light was perfect. I just wanted to keep going.”

Frank slips an arm around his waist.

“You’re perfect.”

“You’re soppy,” Gerard presses his lips to Frank’s forehead.

“Your fault. You made me like this. I was a hardass and you turned me into a marshmallow.”

“I did!” Gerard exclaims gleefully.

“Oh shut up,” Frank grumbles.

“Ok, grumpy old man.”

“Fuck off,” Frank growls, his eyes sparkling happily.

“No. Make me,” Gerard says, low.

Gerard puts down his coffee next to the clay figures he had spent the afternoon making. He hooks a forefinger into the beltloop of Frank’s jeans and tugs. He pulls until their hips are aligned and pushes his fingers deep into Frank’s windswept and tangled dark hair. He presses his lips against Frank’s, still cool from his trip out to the log store. Frank breathes in his smell, warm and musty, then sighs and pulls back from Gerard a little.

“You’d better not start something you can’t finish. You know you can’t leave that clay out like that.”

“Spoilsport,” says Gerard, sulkily.

“Tease,” Frank says and pokes his tongue out.

“If I had known you were such a child, I wouldn’t have invited you to stay.”

“Too late. You’re stuck with me now.”

Gerard grins and kisses his lips again, soft and sure. And Frank can’t remember what it was like to not feel this warmth in his chest.

Gerard tidies away the spare clay so it doesn’t become dried out and useless and places the figures he has made to dry on racks ready for their first fire. Frank watches the weather out of the skylight and sips his cooling coffee.

There’s low cloud billowing in the stiff breeze across the grey-green landscape. A few hardy gulls are trying to fly but the gusts are so strong that they scoot backwards across the stone sky. And a figure moves in the landscape.

Frank blinks. He knows he has been fooled by the changing light and the atmosphere of the island to think there are people in the distance before. But this time there is something … No. It’s gone. Merged into the rapidly growing shadows. He shakes his head and sighs. He needs to stop letting the place, the wind, get to him. He turns to watch Gerard instead. Watching the way his tight jeans cling to the curve of his ass is much less haunting and more, well, arousing. He grins and, for the thousandth time, wonders how this is his life.

When they are at the kitchen table eating broccoli soup and Frank’s homemade soda bread, Gerard is quiet. Frank knows that is unusual. Gerard is never quiet. The only time he has ever seen him quiet was when he was wrestling with falling in love with the cop who had been sent to question him about a murder. Frank is really hoping he is not quiet for something so serious again.

“Gee.”

“Hmmm.” There is silence.

“Are you ok?”

“Uh.” More silence. Frank keeps eating but Gerard has stopped and is looking blank.

“Gee.”

“What?”

“What’s up? You were miles away.”

“Oh. Sorry. I was thinking.”

“About?”

There is a moment. A long moment.

“Gee.”

“Sorry. Um. I was thinking about Mikey. Shouldn’t he be out of rehab soon?”

Frank relaxes, but only a little. Mikey being released from prison and going to rehab has been a background hum of tension in their otherwise pretty idyllic life.

“I guess.”

“And I wondered …”

“Gerard. He can’t stay here. He doesn’t want to come here. You know he couldn’t take the quiet.”

“I know. I know. But he needs somewhere that isn’t there. I can’t think of anything else. And I need to find somewhere. He’s been trying so hard. And you know he asked me because he doesn’t know anyone that isn’t in that world.”

“I know. You just … Just be kinder to yourself. He’s not your responsibility.”

“He is,” Gerard mutters.

“Gee, please. He is an adult who is recovering from addiction. You can’t live his life for him.”

“I fucking know that. Better than you,” Gerard spits out between gritted teeth.

Frank puts his palms up in surrender and sighs.

“Sorry. I …”

Gerard reaches out a hand and touches Frank’s.

“No. I’m sorry. I know you’re only trying to protect me. I just … feel like I should be able to do more.”

“Sure. Uh. I did wonder if you had tried asking Ray. He might know somewhere near here he could stay? On the mainland? That way he would be close to you but he wouldn’t have to come to the island.”

Gerard smiles and nods. “Ray did say he wanted to help.”

Frank squeezes Gerard’s hand. He takes their mugs, bowls and cutlery to the sink to wash them up.

“Maybe you could invite Ray here for a movie night? You could talk about Mikey then.”

“You just want to jam with him,” Gerard smirks.

“Why wouldn’t I? The man is a guitar god.”

*****

There had been a moment, that first morning after, when Frank woke up in Gerard’s bed in the artist’s island home. After he had decided to stay and make Unig his home. After he had decided to throw away his job, his home, his nothing, for hazel eyes, a round face and a tiny deserted island. Waking up in a bed with a cat, surrounded by more Star Wars memorabilia than Frank knew existed, Frank wondered if he had fallen into one of his childhood dreams. One of the ones he often had the first night in a new foster home, where his fantasy life where he either had a birth family that loved him or, later as a teenager, a partner that adored him took over for just one night. The ones that made him wake up rested, optimistic and hopeful.

It had taken him a while to learn that the dream never became a reality. Who could blame him? He started having the dreams when he was five years old. After his parents died and his alcoholic aunt had been ordered by a court to give him up to family services. Kids that young haven’t yet learned that life is hard and people lie and promises always get broken. He had taken a long time and a lot of fear and bruises and broken bones to learn that.

Gerard’s bed felt like another new foster placement full of lies and deceit and the pancakes Gerard made him for breakfast tasted like ash in his mouth. He had to run outside to vomit. And when he came back in the kitchen and Gerard had held him while he sobbed huge gulping tears, the whirling ball of fear in his guts had shrunk just a little tiny bit. Gerard’s eyes had been kind and sad when eventually he had explained. Not pitying. Just sad, like he could have done anything to change Frank’s shitty childhood.

And he had held him the following night, the whole night, as Frank had shaken and thrashed and screamed his way through the nightmares that had racked him and left him grey and sweating. Because the nightmares always followed.

When Frank woke up, he was apologetic. He felt ashamed when he had seen the bruises and scratches he had left on Gerard. Gerard refused his apologies, saying he wore them as a badge of honour. His honour to help Frank. And that had just made Frank weep. He had no idea what to do with kindness. The only way he could cope with that was to walk the island coast path, visit the seal colony and smoke for hours.

And the next night he had slept, dreamless and peaceful. It wasn’t a perfect solution. It wasn’t like Frank never had a nightmare again but it was a start. Like the island and Gerard were healing him, one peaceful night at a time.

*****

Ray arrived on Brian’s boat in the fog of the late March afternoon. Frank could hear the chugging of the engine and the lapping of the waves against the side of the boat long before he saw them bob up to the harbour wall. Then Ray leapt onto the quayside, guitar bag poking up from behind his head and waved goodbye to Brian. He pulled the black beanie down onto the mass of curls on his head but it resisted, curls springing out in all directions. He grinned.

“Great to see you, man. You need me to carry anything?”

Ray pulled Frank in for a hug, Frank still a little stiff to respond after all this time. Then Ray passed him a backpack which Frank slipped over his shoulder for the journey up the steep cliff steps. They settled into easy conversation on their walk to the cottage.

“That dentist case is sorted. The wife confessed,” mentioned Ray as they walked, hunched against the buffeting wind.

“Really? I thought it would take her longer to admit it. She tried real hard to cover up how pissed she was with him when I interviewed her but that angry foot just kept tapping.”

“I don’t know how you do it, Frank. It’s almost magic how you see what people are thinking.” Ray sounds impressed.

Frank shrugs.

“It’s just what I do. Not my fault if people can’t hide their lies or can’t shut up when they want someone to know how clever they’ve been. Ego is great. Sometimes you don’t even have to push people to give themselves away.”

Ray grins.

“Don’t thank me. Just keep bringing me interesting cases and letting me play your guitars and we’re good.” Frank grins. “What did you bring me this time?”

“I got a Gibson SG in the bag. You tried one of those before?”

“Only copies before, man. Would love to try a proper Gibson.”

They settle to a companionable silence, amid the whistling wind and sound of crunching gravel underfoot.

Frank has been working as a consultant for Ray on difficult cases since he quit his job in the city. He had started working as the unofficial island warden when he first moved in with Gerard as he was much more practical at maintenance. Then Ray invited him to help out on a complicated case and Frank had really enjoyed exercising his interrogation skills. He knew there had been some collusion between Ray and Gerard to make it happen but was quite happy to indulge them by making them think they were doing him a favour by letting him take on the odd case. Gerard had wanted him to do something because Frank got so irritable without a problem to solve. Maintaining the paths and cliffs and monitoring the wildlife was great but nothing else gives him the buzz of pushing a suspect to a reluctant confession.

For a brief moment, Frank was distracted from his thoughts by a movement up ahead. He squinted a little and the movement looked like there was a person walking the path further along. They looked tall, solidly built. He didn’t register it as unusual until the figure appeared to turn to look at the pair and something in Frank’s guts churned. Frank grasped Ray’s wrist.

“Do you see them? Is it … ?” he whispers hoarsely.

“Frank? What is it?”

“I … don’t know. It’s ...” Frank lets go of Ray’s arm and sprints ahead. Ray follows him but by the time they get to where they are both sure the figure had been there is no-one. There are no footprints on the path either.

“Frank, what did you see?”

“I don’t know.”

“I don’t believe you,” Ray says, carefully.

Frank sighs and keeps walking.


	2. That’s A Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Oceans by Frank Iero and the Patience
> 
> Content warning for animal mutilation description

“You sure this is ok, Ray?” 

Mikey taps his long fingers on the kitchen counter, a tattoo of anxious discomfort. He doesn’t know how to behave in the police house. Every one of his nerve endings is stretched and zinging like an overtightened guitar string. It’s the first time he has spent a night outside of an institution, outside of prison, outside of rehab, for years and he doesn’t remember the rules. It’s too quiet and the proximity to just one other person is making him sweat. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Staying here. Uh. With you. I mean, you’re a cop. Isn’t this ,,, I don’t know? Not allowed.” 

“Mikey. You are not here because I am a police officer. You are here because your brother cares about you and he is my friend.”

“Oh.” Mikey isn’t sure if that’s worse or not. There’s obligation and the risk he will mightily fuck this generous man’s friendship with his brother if he puts a foot wrong. He sighs. 

“Yeah. C’mon, help me with preparing these vegetables.” 

Ray patiently shows Mikey how to chop peppers and mushrooms how he wants them and Mikey’s shoulders relax infinitesimally. 

“Thanks Ray,” Mikey says quietly. 

“No problem,” Ray says, offhand. 

“No, Ray. I mean it. You didn’t have to do this and I appreciate it,” Mikey presses. 

“That’s fine, Mikey,” Ray says, easily. 

“No, really. I don’t want to be a burden to you. I know you’re only doing this as a favour to Gerard so I will keep out of your way as much as I can until I can find my own place.” 

“No,” Ray says sharply over his shoulder as he stirs the pasta sauce. 

Mikey looks up, startled. Scared he has already fucked this up. 

“What? Sorry. If you want me to go now, I can …” 

“No. Mikey. I’m sorry.” Ray reaches out a hand to Mikey, touches his wrist. “I didn’t mean it like that. You are welcome to stay as long as you like. You are not a burden and you are not just here as a favour to Gerard. I want you here and I want you to feel comfortable. This is your home for as long as you want it to be. I can imagine it’s odd and different after everything you’ve been through. So give yourself a break. It’s ok to relax.” 

Ray’s voice is kind and Mikey lets himself believe it just a little bit. But he has to back up from Ray’s touch. It is making him feel cold. 

“Ok.” 

“So, Mikey. What do you like to do? Gerard tells me you like comics, movies and music as much as he does.” Ray finishes grating cheese over the pasta and puts the dish in the oven to bake. 

“Yeah. I do. But I don’t really do anything right now. It’s been a while…”

“Ok. Let’s try something different. What would you be doing if you could do what you really wanted?” 

“Touring in a band,” Mikey says, certain, no hesitation. 

“Cool.” Ray grins. “What would you play?” 

“Bass,” says Mikey, surprising himself with how certain he feels. It’s been a long time since he thought about this, music, having any kind of future. “I write too.” 

“Songs?” 

“A bit. And stories. Mostly horror.” 

“Yeah? That’s cool. Favourite kind?”

“Oh, zombies definitely. Not modern ones, more old and shambolic. A bit like me.”

“You said it.” 

Ray laughs and Mikey’s smile is just a little broader. 

*****

Gerard scoops the last dollop of ice cream out of the bowl with his finger and licks it clean. The flavour of vanilla and raspberry fills his mouth and his eyelashes flutter. 

“Do you want me to leave you alone with the rest of that? It looks like you two need some privacy,” Frank asks wryly. 

Gerard giggles. “I can’t help it if your cooking is amazing. I don’t know how you are so good at all this.” He waves a hand lazily around which Frank takes as indicating his cooking and housekeeping skills. 

“You really don’t want to know,” says Frank, guarded. He doesn’t want to go there. 

“No? You sure?” Gerard teases. He reaches out to Frank, slides a finger down his nose and rests it on his lips. 

Frank grabs his hand, tight. 

“I mean it.” His voice is tense, cold. Gerard’s eyes widen. 

“I … I didn’t mean to …” he stammers. “I don’t want to go poking in old wounds. I’m sorry.” 

“No. It’s ok,” Frank softens. He releases Gerard’s hand, rolls his shoulders and sighs. “Look. Grab a jacket. Come for a walk with me. I need a smoke.” 

“And you’ll tell me?” 

“Ok.” Frank doesn’t really intend to tell him. Apart from little snippets about his childhood, he hasn’t really told him much and that suits him. The last thing he wants is for the affection in Gerard’s eyes to be replaced with pity. He knows enough to know there are places they can’t go. For either of them. 

As he sits on the kitchen chair, lacing up his well worn leather walking boots, Mercado rubs herself against his legs, purring. He scritches behind her ears and she rolls over for a tummy rub. Gerard rests a hand on his back. 

“You know she never took much notice of people before you came here, don’t you? She was so aloof, scared even.” 

“Yeah,” says Frank, only half listening. 

“She and her big brother, Crowley, had been abused. They hadn’t been fed for weeks when they were rescued and by the time they came to me they were healthy but they still really didn’t trust people. Crowley did get more friendly in time but Mercado never did. She would hide under furniture or in the log store. She would only sleep in here with Crowley. She was always suspicious of new people until you came along. I think the first time I ever saw her sleeping on one of the beds was the morning after we first, y’know.”

Pink grows high on Gerard’s cheeks. A tiny smile flashes across Frank’s face. He peers down at the purring tabby. 

“You had a shit start in life too, girl? I guess you know it when you see it.” 

Gerard smirks behind his scarf and they head out of the cottage. Frank leads them to one of his favourite beaches. It’s on the leeward side of the island so it is quiet and full of wildlife, birds and seals, rather than rocky and windblown. They sit on the rough grass on the low, solid cliff edge and Frank pulls out his pack of cigarettes. 

“Want one?” He offers. 

Gerard shakes his head. He’s trying to give up. He’s always trying to give up. Frank sometimes thinks if he stopped trying so hard it might work better. He doesn’t say anything. 

“I wasn’t trying to make you tell me a sob story. I know you grew up in foster care. It’s up to you if you want to tell me any more.” Gerard says quietly, picking at the grass absentmindedly. 

“You know I don’t want to. I … uh … appreciate you’ve never really asked. I mean, there was that time I freaked out but, y’know, this was all just a bit new. I just prefer living for now, not digging around in the shit that happened before. I have never got how that is meant to help. I tried therapy a couple of times. Just made me think about it all more. Made me worse so I decided, y’know, fuck that.” 

Gerard smiles, gazes out to the slate grey sea, sneaks a hand onto Frank’s warm thigh and squeezes. Frank pats his hand and inhales smoke deeply. 

“You know what it’s like to do what you need to survive to the next day. I know you’ve been there.” 

Frank pulls hard on the cigarette and blows out slow. Gerard looks at the sea. Listens. Waits. He thinks Frank might talk given space. So he waits it out. Frank flicks the still burning end off the cliff. 

“It took a while for me to realise that the only way to get by was to not stand out. Sticking out, being noticed, gets you hurt. Nobody told me but I learned. I watched. I made sure no-one could ever get pissed at me because there was dirt or something to trip on. It was like being quiet only for your eyes, not your ears. So I would sneak out when they thought I was in bed and I would clean. Fuckers never caught on.”

Gerard quietly reaches out and takes Frank’s packet of cigarettes, lights two and hands one to Frank. He smokes his first cigarette in weeks from a splayed hand and listens. 

“But that only got me so far. It was still not enough. So I watched people cook. I used to dream about it because there was never enough food in those places. Hungry kids and adults too fucked up to care. So I learned how to make things kids like, get them on side, make them look out for me. I started with cookies, then cakes and bread. Stole ingredients, exchanged the stuff I made for more. I got good, I guess. Trouble is it made me more noticeable. I got passed around because I was the kid who could cook. I was protected because of it but some people were jealous.” 

Gerard moved gently closer to Frank, nestled into his side, sharing warmth as he talked. He could feel Frank shaking just a little, but that could have been from the biting wind. He trusts Frank to talk if he needs to now. 

“There was this other kid. He wasn’t very strong, kept getting picked on, had a bit of a gay vibe. Some of the shittiest kids had him marked as a target. While they were picking on him they didn’t see me. Couldn’t see I was the same. So I kept quiet. Didn’t join in but didn’t stop them either. I couldn’t risk them noticing me. The worst thing was the Dad in that foster place joined in. Fucking sadistic bastard. One night they beat that kid so bad I thought he died. When I woke up he was gone, no ambulance, nothing. No-one ever mentioned him again.” 

Frank breathes in a low slow breath, shakes his head like he wants to knock the memories free from his skull. Like then they might float away in the stiff island breeze, even just these few picked off the surface of so many shitty memories that he tries to keep pressed down and buried.

Gerard risks a glance at him, sees his cheeks gleaming wet and looks away. Instead he sneaks an arm around Frank’s waist, doesn’t squeeze, just holds him. Frank is still shaking. 

“So yeah. I cook and clean but maybe not for the best of reasons,” he says dismissively. 

“You know you don’t have to here. I could …” 

“Gee. I do remember the state of the place when I arrived. There is no way I am living like that.” Gerard shrugs. 

“Besides I don’t do it for survival any more,” Frank explains, his tone lighter. “I do it now because homemade ice cream makes you horny.” 

Gerard looks up to catch just a tiny glimpse of Frank’s full megawatt grin and Gerard has to kiss it. Frank giggles. Something loosened in him. He had revealed something when he had no intention of ever letting it out. Again the island and Gerard’s soft, patient magic had worked on him. 

“C’mere.” Frank grabs Gerard’s jacket, hauls him back in for a bruising kiss. Keeps him breathless and aching until they topple, tangled together, onto the rough grass. 

Frank reaches for Gerard’s wrists, pushes them above his head, traps them with one hand, presses them with his full weight into the ground. Gerard moans, low and writhes happily in the restraint, eyelids half closed, and Frank feels like he could dissolve with how much he wants him. So he rubs his hips down Gerard’s and they both groan at the friction. 

Frank rolls off onto his side and releases Gerard’s wrists. He tugs at the hem of his jacket and hisses in frustration at the hoodie, t-shirt and whatever else Gerard has got himself bundled up in. Gerard grins and pulls at clothes until his soft belly is exposed. Frank smiles and dips his head to kiss the warm skin. He nuzzles into the soft hairs at the edge of his leather belt and shifts his weight so he can slip cold fingers underneath. Gerard squeaks and jumps. 

“Shhhh. Let me …” 

“Ok. Ok.” Gerard breathes. 

“Brace yourself!” Frank slips his hand into Gerard’s underwear and this time he only twitches a little at the cold sensation. Once Frank has gripped his hard dick any thought of the cold has disappeared. It is only pleasure that makes him arch his back, pant and dig his heels into soft mud. 

Frank’s hand slides down to the sweaty nest of hair, lending ease to his slip upwards again. Gerard’s hips tilt and twist, following the sweet pull and grip, twist and rub, while Frank’s head rests on his chest. Gerard reaches a hand across his belly to rub in rhythm at Frank’s cock, a hard line through his jeans. And, as gulls wheel overhead, their cries of pleasure and release merge with the calls of seabirds and the crash of the waves below. 

As their panting breaths slow, Frank looks up at Gerard’s stubbly chin. 

“God. Aren’t we just a couple of fucked up freaks?” 

“You said it. Lucky we have the island to ourselves so no-one has to see this shit. You wanna go home and change?” 

“Nah. Let’s go for a walk on the beach.” Gerard grimaces, shifts his ass in his now sticky underwear, and pulls grass out of his hair. And follows Frank as he hops onto his feet and heads down the path. 

*****

“I think the smell’s coming from in there,” Frank points towards the craggy entrance to a sea cave. He heaves himself up onto a large rock from the pebble beach and goes to peer inside. “You coming, Gee?” 

“I …” 

“C’mon, it’ll be fun. There’s probably something super gross in there. You know you love gross things.” Frank reaches out a hand to pull Gerard up. 

“Yeah. I do love you so …” Gerard shrugs. 

“Cheeky shit,” Frank grins. “Get your pretty ass up here.” 

Frank hauls reluctant Gerard onto the rock and they both squint into the gloom. Gerard sniffs and wrinkles his nose. 

“Ew. What do you think that is?” 

“No idea. Only one way to find out.” Frank scrambles over rocks into the gloom of the cave. He calls back over his shoulder. “I think it’s coming from over there,” and points into the darkness of the cave. 

Gerard sighs, hunches his shoulders and follows. 

They quickly get to the source of the smell. Laid out between the large sea-slick rocks, there is a dead seal. It smells rotten and sweet with an undertone of iron and iodine from the sea. Its flesh is no longer quite attached to the bone. But is still evident that this was a young seal, not quite mature, because there are still white flecks on its fur amidst the grey. It is also clear that its death was not natural. 

It has been decapitated. 

The head has been sliced cleanly off at the neck and has been moved by scavengers a little way away and some of the flesh already devoured. Gerard pretends he can’t hear the faint sounds of rats scrabbling in the darkness of the cave. He shivers. 

“What did that, d’ya think? There aren’t any predators here on the island that could cut its neck cleanly like that.” 

Frank is quiet. 

“Frank? It can’t have been killed by a gull or a cat or even a buzzard.” 

Gerard looks at Frank. Even in the dark of the sea cave he looks pale. 

“Frank. What’s wrong?”

“Um. Nothing.” Frank shakes his head and smiles but the smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“No. It’s not nothing. Frankie. C’mon. I know a dead body shouldn’t bother you. You must have seen far worse than a dead seal. What’s bothering you?” 

“It’s nothing.” Frank shakes his head, lips a tight line. 

“I don’t believe you. I know you. Tell me,” Gerard says sharply. 

“Fuck you,” Frank sighs. “Ok. I think a person did this.” 

“Oh. I guess that makes sense. But .,,” 

“Yeah. But.” 

“There’s been no-one but us here since Ray last week. Brian hasn’t brought anyone else here. There’s no way it’s even as old as that. Do you think …” 

“Yeah. I think there’s someone else here on the island and they’re hiding from us.” 

“Shit, Frank. That’s creepy,” Gerard breathes. 

Then something else occurs to him. 

“That seal wasn’t killed for food.”

“Nope.”

“So why kill it? And why like that?” 

Frank is quiet again. 

“You know why, don’t you?” Gerard guesses. 

Frank looks at his feet, avoiding Gerard’s eyes. 

“Frank.”

Frank mutters something, inaudible. 

“Frank.” Gerard insists. 

He looks up, tension clear in the lines on his face. 

“It’s a warning,” he repeats. 

“A warning of …?” 

“A warning for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess this is less of a murder mystery than the last story. There is a less of a whodunnit thing going on and more psychological drama. Digging into why Frank is how he is means there are fewer surprises but I became more interested in the central characters’ relationship with each other and others who are close to them.  
> I hope you enjoy this!


	3. Cinderella Sweeping Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey struggles to settle in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Desolation Row by Bob Dylan

Gerard hugs Mikey tight, reluctant to let him go. 

“It’s not been long enough, Mikes.” Gerard’s words are only audible because his head is resting on Mikey’s shoulder. Otherwise the grinding of the engine of Brian’s boat and the wind would snatch away his quiet voice in an instant. 

“I know. But there’s only so long I can stand the quiet here. Seagulls and the wind aren’t the same as cars and people.” 

“It’s hardly that noisy where you’re staying on the mainland. There’s six streets, a few shops, a hotel and a school. It’s hardly the city.” 

“No. And that’s good too. Look, it’s been great being with you and Frank. But I feel …” 

“You’re not in the way, Mikey.” 

Mikey pats Gerard’s back firmly, a clear attempt to end their embrace. He’s very stiff, upright, clearly awkward. 

“Not yet, I’m not. But …”

“Is it Frank? You know he’s not really scary. He’s just a bit cynical and abrupt at times. You’ll get to know him.” 

“It’s not Frank. I like him. We’re cool. I just … I just need … well. Space. And time, I guess.” 

“I don’t think I can buy you a Tardis,” Gerard grins. 

Mikey smiles, a rare slow thing. And Gerard relaxes a little. It’s taking time, getting the old Mikey back. Or finding the new one. The no pills and booze one that has a purpose beyond surviving. Whoever that is. He knows Frank thinks he’s trying too hard, being too protective, risking pushing Mikey away. But he doesn’t know how to be with Mikey yet, especially when Mikey doesn’t know who he is either. 

So Gerard lets Mikey go. He lets him get on Brian’s boat back to the mainland to go and stay with Ray at the police house. But he is quiet when he gets back to the cottage, sharp with Frank and irritable with the cats. So Frank leaves him alone to sort out his thoughts and goes out to check on the nesting birds. 

***** 

“What are you planning for today?” Ray asks through the steam of his morning coffee. 

Mikey shrugs. “Go for a walk maybe? I don’t really know anywhere so I thought I’d explore.” 

“Cool. I have to work all day. We could meet in the café by the harbour for lunch, if you want some company?” Ray suggests and receives a brief, tiny smile in response. 

Mikey pulls on the black double breasted woollen peacoat hanging on a hook in the hall. Years ago when all he had was a denim jacket to keep him warm as he worked the streets at night he had promised himself this. Had promised himself a warm, full length coat that wrapped around him, brass buttoned. with wide lapels that he could turn up to keep himself warm against the chill air. And when he had left rehab after getting parole and coming here to stay with Ray, he had found the coat lying on his bed. A gift from Gerard. And he still didn’t know if he loved him for it or if he wanted to run because he felt smothered by it. 

Today, he hoped it was just going to keep him warm in the harsh early April winds. 

He wraps a scarf around his neck and tucks the ends under the collar of his coat, checks his pockets for his phone, wallet, cigarettes, lighter and keys. Then he steps out of the police house and pulls the door shut with a clatter. He hunches his shoulders against the gently drizzling rain. He could head out on the main road towards the wild hills or towards the town and the harbour. He decides he is not quite ready to be alone with his thoughts yet so he turns towards where there are shops and cafes and people. 

Later he is sitting on the harbour wall watching the fishing boats chug out towards their favourite haunts, smoking with shaking hands. He had to come here to clear his head, the lure of the hotel bar too strong once he had been around the few shopping streets of the town three times in half an hour and found nothing to distract him. He could admit to himself he was struggling. There was nothing in his head but a voice screaming at him that he was evil and worthless and he needed to deaden that or someone was going to get hurt. 

He tried watching the people passing instead. The man who ran the boat out to Gerard’s island - Brian, was it? - was repairing the engine of his boat which kept spluttering and dying. A regular stream of people bought fish and chips from a shop at the end of the harbour wall and the gulls would follow them, hoping for scraps. A pretty blonde-haired girl with a warm smile had greeted him cheerily. She was struggling with a small yapping dog who kept trying to chase the wheeling, hungry seagulls. 

He wondered how long he could cope with living here before the boredom and mundanity drove him back to his old ways. 

A shout disturbed his thoughts. 

“Cherry! Cherry, no!” 

It was the girl. The dog had pulled its lead out of her hands and was hurtling after a gull perched on the edge of the harbour wall. As the dog got close the gull took off and wheeled away on the wind, taunting, and the dog tumbled off the wall into the water. 

Mikey didn’t think. He pulled off his coat and scarf, thrust them into the girl’s hands and leapt into the dock after the dog. It was only when the blast of ice cold water hit him that he realised he should probably have thought this through more carefully. 

He still had his heavy boots on as well as, amazingly, his glasses. The water was freezing cold and he had never been that confident a swimmer. He began to thrash around, looking for the dog. There was no sign of it. He couldn’t see under the water with his glasses so he took them off and gripped them tightly in his hand. Then he drew in a gulp of air and ducked under the murky water. 

He could just make out the dog, near the surface, struggling. Its hind leg was caught in some rope so it couldn’t get free. He swam over, ducked beneath the surface and fumbled with the rope until the dog kicked free. It thrashed its way through the water and Brian plucked it out and into his boat. Mikey followed. 

By the time the girl had climbed down into the boat, Mikey was shaking with cold, his clothes dripping, jeans heavy with water pulling at his waist, hair bedraggled. He looked like an angry wet kitten. The girl immediately hugged him, hard, not caring that she was getting damp too. 

“Thank you so much. I just can’t thank you enough for rescuing Cherry. I don’t know what my granny would have done without her.”

“It’s no problem?” Mikey replies through chattering teeth. 

“God. You’re frozen. You need to get warmed up before you catch something. How about you come with me and I will get you warmed up … uh …” 

“Mikey. And you don’t need to. I could just go home and change.” 

“Ok Mikey. I’m Kristin. C’mon. Let me get you warmed up. It’s the least I can do since you saved Cherry.” 

She wraps him in his scarf and coat and, with Cherry trotting damply behind, Mikey obediently follows her to her home. Which turns out to be the hotel. Where she leads him into the bar. And his stomach drops into his squelchy boots. He must have looked startled because she asks him if he is ok and he mutters that he is. She settles him on a leather sofa by the open fire. 

“You want anything? On the house?” she asks, nodding towards the bar. Mikey bites his tongue hard. Kristin must sense something from him because she says “it doesn’t have to be alcohol. I could make you tea, coffee, hot chocolate maybe?” 

“Coffee, black, two sugars, please,” Mikey replies gratefully. 

She returns with coffee, hot buttered toast and a small stack of hotel towels. As Mikey dries his hair, crunches toast and sips warm, sweetened coffee, he realises he can hear his phone ringing. By the time he can pull it from his coat pocket, it has gone to voicemail. It was Gerard. There are six missed calls and one very short, annoyed message. 

“Where the fuck are you? Ray is looking for you.”

Mikey swears under his breath. He’s forgotten he was going to meet Ray in a café for lunch. 

Then Ray appears at the end of the bar, his brow furrowed in concern, and Mikey just wants to escape. Go where no-one expects him to fuck up or can’t trust him to be in a bar or doesn’t have to know where he is or worry about him. Where Ray doesn’t make that sad, tolerant look that kids who have disappointed their parents dread. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“I don’t think it’s any of your business, Ray.” 

“No, it’s not. You can do what you want. But your brother …” 

“Needs to let me fucking breathe. He’s not even here and he’s got you keeping track of me. You both need to trust me.” 

“Sorry. I just wondered where you had got to.” 

“You didn’t need to call my brother.” 

“I get that now. He asked me to keep an eye on you.” 

“Well, don’t.” 

There is silence between them, filled by the crackling spit of logs in the open fire. 

“You’re wet,” Ray observes. 

“Wow. You are a great detective,” Mikey says, deadpan. 

Ray smiles and Mikey begins to feel warm again. 

*****

Frank hears the worried message Gerard leaves for Mikey from the kitchen, where he is elbows deep in washing-up. He rolls his eyes at the overprotective big brotherliness of the tone. From what little he has seen of Mikey he is pretty certain he is going to resent Gerard’s stressed concern. There is a huffing sound behind him and he hears Gerard throw the satellite phone on the kitchen table. It slides across the wooden surface and clatters onto the tiled floor. 

“You’ll break that. Ironic since you only bought it so you could talk to him,” says Frank mildly. 

Gerard lets out an annoyed grunt. 

“Don’t fucking tell me.”

“Then stop hassling him. He needs to work out how to live sober himself. You’re only going to drive him away if you keep smothering him.” 

Gerard snorts. 

“Who made you the fucking expert?” 

“Stop it.” Frank turns, wipes his hands on a towel and glares at Gerard. “It’s not me you’re angry with. Or him for that matter. Quit shoving your guilt in everyone’s faces and let Mikey relax.” 

Gerard rubs his eyes with splayed fingers and sighs. “Ok. Ok,” he mutters. 

Frank hears his footsteps creak on the spiral stairs to the attic studio as he turns back to the sink. 

And his body jolts like he has been shot. 

There is a man standing behind the low garden wall staring directly at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mikey deserves some fun, I think, and it amused me to throw him into the water and come out looking like an angry wet kitten. I mean, that’s how you’d expect him to look, right?   
> This chapter is a bit of light relief before things get really serious so I hope you enjoyed it.


	4. Heart Attack in Red Hair Dye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something reminds Frank of his past. It just keeps getting closer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title adapted from Save Yourself I’ll Hold Them Back by My Chemical Romance

Frank crawls out from the scrubby bushes that have grown over the ancient wall of the ruined dwelling. He brushes mud and twigs off his jeans and sighs. 

There’s nothing. No sign of anyone having been in there using the stone walls for shelter. The island isn’t that fucking big. There’s no way someone … that man … could hide on this tiny island without leaving some trace. Even the slightest hint of having been there. There was a couple of days from the time he first thought he saw him out of the attic window to when he glimpsed him with Ray. Then a week until they had found the decapitated seal and a few days later he saw him from the kitchen window. Frank can’t understand how such a big guy could hide so well for so long. And how had he got there? Last time Brian delivered the island supplies he swore he hadn’t brought anyone but Ray or Mikey over in weeks. The guy must have his own boat hidden somewhere too. 

Then memories begin to pop up, unbidden. A military medal in a case, muscular arms tattooed with insignia and Latin mottoes. 

Shit. The guy was in the army or marines or some other group of over-muscled and under-brained assholes trained to bully and fight and hide. Frank shivers, a full body tremor, at the thought that he is being watched now by a silent, skilled predator. 

But why? 

He sighs. He needs to get his rusty detective brain working on this or he will be in trouble. Why doesn’t matter. Motivation is something for mystery writers and self-absorbed actors. He needs to focus on finding that piece of shit and making sure he never harms Frank or anyone he loves again. He needs to be in control, no distractions. It’s the only way he knows to stop shit going wrong. He gets Gerard’s binoculars out of his backpack and scans the horizon for movement. 

There’s nothing, so he loops the binoculars over his head and strides back to the cottage. On the way he sees the black and white cat, Dee, stalking through the grass towards a hollow of scrubby bushes by a stream. That is the biggest and most wild of their cats, a fierce predator out of doors and a purring cushion inside. Dee often brings rats to the back door of the cottage that Frank has to get rid of quickly. Otherwise their stiff tiny paws, glazed eyes and goofy teeth make Gerard cry hot tears that get Frank flustered. 

“Gee!” Frank calls as he pulls the front door closed. 

“In here,” says Gerard’s muffled voice from the bathroom at the far end of the hallway. 

Frank pushes the door open and he gasps. He turns abruptly, heart racing, and his feet carry him out into the tiny cottage garden where he has to put a hand on the stone wall to bend and catch his breath. Whirling thoughts in his head chase each other, forcing bile into the back of his throat. A tiny stone gargoyle with Gerard’s face stares at him from between the stones, placidly accusing. 

His body jerks in surprise when a hand touches his back. 

“You … you ...” he stammers. 

“Frankie,” Gerard says gently. “Breathe, sweetie.” 

Frank heaves in gulping breaths slowly, drawing air deep into his lungs. Then he coughs and regrets the smoking habit he has never managed to kick. Once he has caught his breath, he looks up through tear-stuck eyelashes. Gerard is staring at him, wide eyed with fear. 

“Frankie. What is it?” 

Frank takes a measured breath. 

“The red …” 

Gerard’s hand goes to his newly dyed, wet hair and bites his lips with worry. 

“Yeah. I fancied a change and I always liked this colour. Is there something wrong with it?” 

“No. No.” Frank puts out his hands to reassure Gerard. “It’s not … uh … wrong. It just surprised me, that’s all.” 

“That looked like more than surprise, Frank.” 

Frank shrugs. “I’m just a bit jumpy, I guess.” 

“You sure? You jumpy about anything in particular?” Gerard reaches an arm around Frank’s waist and nuzzles into his side. Frank softens a little, reassured that Gerard has swallowed his lie. He reaches a hand up to Gerard’s wet hair and digs his fingers through, roughly combing out damp, matted tangles. 

“Mmm. Not … uh … not sure,” Frank gets so distracted by Gerard’s wet hair, soft mouth and warm body that he can’t remember his excuse for freaking out. 

He only remembers how panicky that shade of bright red hair made him after they were laying together on their sofa, tangled in blankets, underwear and sweaty limbs, breathing getting slower. Frank knows he’ll have to say something. He can’t protect Gerard if he isn’t aware. The question is how much to tell. 

“Gee.” 

“Yeah.” 

“There is something.” 

Gerard stops lazily tracing Frank’s chest tattoos with a finger and shifts so he can look up at him. 

“I guessed as much. What is it? And please don’t bullshit me. I know you like to keep stuff inside but it fucks you up when you do that.” 

Frank smiles. Gerard is always smarter than he gives him credit for but he is also softer than the situation warrants. 

“Ok. So we’re in “don’t pity me for my shitty childhood” territory again.” Frank says bluntly. “I need you to not get emotional or overprotective about this because it’s dangerous.” 

Gerard’s eyes widen. 

“Stop it. You’re doing the eyes thing already.” 

“Sorry. Ok. I’ll try. What is it?” 

Frank inhales slowly and explains. 

“I worked in vice for a while, a few years back now. Just for a couple of years before I got the homicide job. I got to know quite a few of them. You know what it’s like, you had that life, cops and hookers get to know each other.” 

Gerard nods and his hand stills on Frank’s chest, just listening. 

“There was this kid I kept seeing, had the same bright red hair as that. Red like a fire truck. Like a beacon, day or night. Couldn’t miss him. Had this old fake fur jacket and skinny jeans on all the time. Looked a proper diva. Beautiful even, in the right light but, jeeze, the guy was thin. Skin so pale and tight on his cheekbones you could almost see bone. He had the saddest eyes. They were almost …” Frank shakes his head, shifting loose a thought he doesn’t want to consider. 

“Never knew his name, just called him Red. Every time I arrested him he gave a different name - Bruce Wayne, Peter Parker, Tony Stark, you get the idea - so he was just Red to me. I made a mistake doing that, giving him a name. So risky seeing guys like that as human …”

Gerard inhales sharply and glares at Frank. 

“No. Sorry. No, I don’t mean it like that. It’s not that he wasn’t human because of what he did. No … uh … I don’t believe that. You know that. I am saying this badly.” 

Frank gulps a breath and then continues. 

“No, it’s just if he had a name, if he was like a friend, it would hurt more when he died. And they did, y’know, often die. Whether it was getting sick or getting beaten or overdosing, they did often. And it was a mistake. With him I mean. Because it was me that found him. I was doing a routine patrol where he usually worked. Not to arrest him, just to keep track of the dealers round there. And I found him unconscious in an alley. He was covered in blood, nose broken, hair pulled out in clumps and scattered across the ground. It was horrible. But that time, that time, I got the bastard.” 

“What do you mean?” Gerard asks quietly. 

“I saw the guy leave the alley. And I knew the fucker. Would have recognised him anywhere.” 

“Who?”

“You remember the foster dad I told you about? Beat up that gay kid?” 

“Yeah,” Gerard breathes. 

“Yeah. Him. Name was Hunter. Macho asshole, name suited him. Never gonna forget that piece of shit.” 

“I bet.” 

“No. Not just because of what I saw him do to that kid. Because once the kid was gone, they started on me.” 

Silence. 

Then “Oh Frank.” 

“I told you not to pity me. I can’t stand it. The only way I can talk to you about this is if you don’t pity me. I don’t pity me. I got fucking even. I became a cop because I wanted to get him. Because I wanted to catch all the shits like him. I used what they taught me. What it looks like when people lie, like when they told my social worker that I was happy or when they said the bruises on me were my fault. When I had nightmares or I wet the bed and they blamed scary movies or comic books when it was because I was hiding from them and was too afraid to use the bathroom. I watched and learned and remembered and then I used what they taught me to take every single one of those fuckers down.” 

By the end of his speech Frank’s heart is beating fast, pounding like it wants to escape from the cage of his ribs and run away. And he stares at Gerard’s hand, lying still on his chest. He is afraid to look up and see Gerard’s reaction. Because he said more than he meant to yet again. Because if he can still see pity he might have to get dressed and leave. But he needs to know that. He needs to know if escape is his only option. 

So he looks into Gerard’s green-brown eyes and sees … pride. And love. Love that makes him warm. But there is also a little cold fear. There is no pity but he can see he is scared. And Frank is afraid it is him that he is scared of. 

“So why is this dangerous now, Frank?” 

“Because I think he is hiding on the island and I think he’s here to hurt us.”


	5. How Wrong We Were To Think

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gerard asks for advice but it is too late to prevent a death
> 
> Content warning for animal mutilation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Our Lady of Sorrows by My Chemical Romance

“Police, how can I help you?” Ray says in his professional voice. 

“Gerard? Hello?” he queries. 

Mikey looks up from the book he’s reading and tilts his head. 

“You want to speak to Mikey? No? Ok. Let me take this call through to the office.”

Mikey gestures that he’s going out. Ray transfers the call to the office and shuts the door. 

“Ok Gerard. What’s up?” 

Gerard’s voice is garbled and staticky on the line. 

“Gerard. Slow down. What did you say?” 

“I said, Frank thinks there’s someone on the island that wants to kill him.” Gerard’s voice is panicked and he keeps rambling and Ray can’t make it out anymore. 

“Gerard. Stop. Gerard.” Ray insists. 

Eventually the line goes quiet, just Gerard’s breath heaving down the line. 

“Ok. Gerard. What is going on? Start from the beginning and speak slowly.”

“Ray. Sorry. I am freaking out a bit. I just … ah … ok. Look. Frank is in the kitchen. I need to be quiet as I don’t think he wants help from you or from the police. But I am scared, Ray. I don’t know what to think. He says there is a man living on the island, hiding here. Do you think that’s possible?”

Ray stretches his back and sighs, thoughtfully. 

“I guess that’s possible. They’d have to be trained, know how to keep cover. How to live off the land. But why does Frank think that?” 

“He said he’s seen him, more than once. Said you were there one time. Did you see anything?” 

Ray thinks a moment. 

“You mean when we were walking from the boat to the cottage that evening? You know I never really saw anything. I just saw Frank see something.” 

“What does that mean, Ray?” 

“He freaked out but I couldn’t see what he was looking at. I tried to ask him but he shut down. You know what he’s like when he doesn’t want to talk. So tell me about the other times.”

Gerard sighs. 

“Well, he said he saw him in the distance but he wasn’t sure at first. But now he is because he saw him just outside the cottage. And he thinks the guy has already threatened him. Sent him a warning.” 

“What kind of warning?” 

“We found a seal with its head cut off.” 

“Why would that be a warning to Frank?” 

“I don’t know, Ray. He didn’t tell me.” 

“Gerard.” 

“Yeah.”

“Have you seen anything that suggests someone else is on the island?” 

“To be honest, no.”

“How is Frank feeling? Is he upset or unhappy about anything? Anything else, I mean?” 

“You know what Frank’s like. He’s very closed off so it’s hard to tell. I mean, I thought he was happy, we are happy, but … I worry. He said anything to you?”

“Not really.” Ray sighs. 

“Ray. Let me get this straight. Do you think he - what? Made it up?” Gerard’s voice squeaks, high with tension. 

“No. Not that.” 

“What then?” 

“Look, I’m no doctor …”

“Ray! Fuck off. He’s not paranoid. He’s had it rough but there’s no reason to think he made this up.”

“I don’t think he made it up. I just … wonder if all that isolation is playing tricks on him. And you said it yourself, he’s quite closed off. You can’t really know what’s going on in there.” 

“Ray,” Gerard sighs. “I just don’t know. Look. I will think about what you said. But … I need to listen to him. He’s not stupid.”

“Of course not. Just be careful, yeah?” 

“Ok.” The phone clicks and Ray wonders. 

*****

Ray dries his hands on a towel before opening the police house door. 

“Hi Ray. Is Mikey around?” Kristin asks, clutching Cherry to her chest, who is trying to wriggle away. 

“Yeah. C’mon in.” 

“Are you sure? Cherry’s a bit lively today.” 

“We’ll cope,” Ray says brightly. 

Kristin sets Cherry down on the tiled floor and the wiry-haired terrier scrabbles at the end of her lead. She follows her nose to find Mikey, dragging Kristin behind her. 

“Sorry!” Kristin calls over her shoulder. “Since he rescued her, she’s been obsessed with Mikey.”

A moment later, Ray hears a spluttering sound. When he finds Mikey and Cherry in the living room, the dog is on Mikey’s lap slobbering all over his face, his glasses knocked askew. He has a bigger smile on his face than Ray has ever seen before. 

“You ok, man?” Ray inquires with a grin. 

“Uh. Ow. Cherry. Stop it. Ow. Yeah!” splutters Mikey. 

“Cherry! Get down!” Kristin calls. “I’m so sorry. I still can’t work out how to get her to behave.” 

She picks the wriggling dog off Mikey’s lap and tries to get her to sit down. 

“She has so much energy and my granny doesn’t have the strength to walk her anymore. I can’t be around to walk her very often with running the hotel for my dad,” Kristin explains. 

“Maybe I could help you?” Mikey suggests. “I don’t have a lot to do right now.”

“Would you? I would really appreciate it. You want to go for a walk now?” 

Mikey is on his feet, in a coat and out the door quicker than Ray has ever seen him move before. Ray smirks at the slamming door and goes to finish his laundry. 

***** 

Gerard puts on an old green army jacket and pulls on his favourite slouchy grey hat. He smoothes the soft fur on Crowley’s head where the drizzle has made it spike up in clumps. Then he heads out, looking for Frank. 

He scans the horizon searching for signs of his small figure. There are a number of birds wheeling in the air over where grass and rocks and a stream form a little hollow. Gerard furrows his brow, frowns, when he realises that rather than the usual gulls, these are crows. 

Usually the island crows are solitary birds, surviving in isolation. They only come together for two reasons - breeding and carrion. Gerard begins to walk more quickly, his hands gripped and sweating with tension. 

As he gets closer he can see Frank huddled on the ground, squatting so he can peer at what looks like a bundle of fur. The sound of his feet must disturb Frank because he turns and shuffles between Gerard and what he was looking at on the ground. 

“Don’t look,” he says quietly. 

“What is it?” says Gerard, peering past Frank. 

“I said, don’t look. You don’t want to see.” Frank’s voice is steely now, firm. 

“I …” 

“Don’t.” Frank says sharply. 

“Then tell me what it is.” 

Frank sighs and explains sadly. “It’s Dee. He’s dead. And - I don’t want to tell you this but you need to know - he’s … uh …”

Gerard gulps, tears prickling in his eyes. “What? What is it?” 

“He’s been decapitated. I am so sorry.”

Gerard sobs and warm tears begin to drip down his cheeks. He sniffs, tries to stop them, but it’s futile. Frank stands up and folds Gerard into a warm embrace, holds him as he bawls out his sadness. Eventually he pulls in a gulping breath and stills. 

“Frank.” 

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“I think I’m ok now. Can I see him?”

“If you’re sure you’ll be ok?”

“I think so. But I need to do this.” His voice is calmer now, composed, so Frank takes his hand and they both kneel to look at Dee. 

Gerard sighs sadly. Dee’s head has been cut off. It looks like it had been arranged close to his body because there is a pool of blood there. But the carrion crows had already begun to pick him apart before Frank had found him and it had rolled away a little. 

“We can’t leave him here like this. I want to bury him, not leave him for the birds.” Gerard says tightly. 

“Ok Gee. You go back to the cottage, find something to wrap him in to bring him home.” Frank says soothingly. 

“No. I don’t want to leave him,” Gerard says, sharp. He wriggles out of his jacket, pulls off his hoodie and t-shirt. He puts his hoodie and jacket back on and hands the t-shirt to Frank. It’s one of his favourites, a classic Slayer album cover, soft and warm with wear. Frank nods respectfully and lays it out flat on the ground. Then he pulls out his leather gloves from his pockets and puts them on before carefully placing Dee’s remains in the centre of Gerard’s t-shirt. He wraps and folds and ties them into a little bundle. He lifts Dee into his arms, embracing the cold bundle, and carries it back to the house. Gerard trails behind him. A strange little solitary island funeral procession. 

Gerard breaks the silence as they walk. 

“Do you think it was the same person? Y’know, as killed the seal?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why did they do it? Last time you said it was a warning but you never really said why.” 

“Um.” Frank is silent for a moment. He really doesn’t want to tell this story, doesn’t want to have to think about it. But Gerard deserves to know why. Has a right to know now that it affects him personally. 

“You remember the foster dad?” 

Gerard nods tightly. 

“Well, while I was living in his house I found a puppy, a stray. It was abandoned, hungry, so I brought it home, fed it scraps. Loved that little ugly thing. But when I pissed him off, I don’t know how, by breathing or whatever, he took it and killed it. Cut its head off. Left it outside my bedroom door so I stood in it when I got up to use the bathroom that night. He just laughed. I told you he was a sadist.” 

“Frankie,” Gerard sighs. 

“So if he is here, threatening me, threatening us, this is definitely a warning. He is going to hurt everything I care about. And that means you’re in danger.” 

Gerard sneaks an arm around Frank’s waist and nestles into his side. When they get to the cottage, Frank places Dee’s wrapped body on the low stone garden wall and goes to fetch a spade. Gerard tucks his hands under his armpits and stares sadly at the small, still bundle. He remembers Dee’s growling purr, his powerful jump, his long black tail that slid through the grass as he hunted for rats and mice. And he remembers his comforting warmth earlier in the afternoon that he nearly died, before Frank magically appeared to save him. 

“Thank you Dee,” he whispers. “You were a good friend.” He strokes the wrapped bundle softly. 

Frank returns and digs a deep hole in a sheltered border in the cottage garden where the island winds don’t usually reach. He stands up and wipes his muddy hands on his jeans. He nods to Gerard, who picks up the bundle and places it carefully in the hole. 

“Wait a second,” Gerard instructs. 

He disappears into their home and a few minutes later he returns with a clay figure - one of Gerard’s tiny sculptures of a man in a leather jacket with a cat’s head. The kind that Frank has always found strangely appealing. Gerard nestles the cat figure into the bundle. 

“He needs company where he’s going,” he explains solemnly. 

Frank smiles gently and begins to fill the grave with earth. When Dee and his clay companion are fully covered over, Frank treads the earth down carefully and then Frank and Gerard find heavy flat stones to cover the grave and protect it from predators. 

When they are done, they both sit on the low stone garden wall and stare out across the island. Frank pulls out a pack of cigarettes and lights two. He wordlessly gives one to Gerard who pulls in a long, slow dragging breath. 

“Thanks, Frankie.”

“No problem. He deserved … well, better than this.”

Gerard sighs and Frank squeezes his hand. 

“Promise me we’ll get that asshole. Give him the kicking he deserves.” 

Frank glances across. Gerard’s eyes, still red with tears, now glint with cold rage. 

“Yeah. Wherever that piece of shit is, we’ll get him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry. I made myself cry writing Dee’s funeral. They were so sweet and reverent with him.  
> And if anyone was going to accompany Dee to a cat afterlife it would have to be Lotion (the cat from Doom Patrol) because he is such a brilliant and under-recognised character.


	6. That Immortality Meant Never Dying

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from Our Lady of Sorrows by My Chemical Romance

Mikey hears frantic banging on the front door. He opens it to see his brother, carrying a large backpack, standing forlorn and pink eyed in the doorway. His red hair is dishevelled, he looks like he hasn’t slept and he is shaking. 

“Gee. Shit, Gerard. What happened?” 

Gerard sniffs and gulps back the tears that are clearly threatening to return. 

“I … Frank said …” Gerard wails. 

“What did that asshole do? If he hurt you, I’ll kill him,” Mikey exclaims. He grabs Gerard, pulls him into a fierce hug. Mikey insists Gerard gives up his backpack and coat and has him sitting at the kitchen table with a warm mug of fruit tea before Gerard can say another word. 

“Ok. When you have warmed up you can tell me what that no good motherfucker has done to you and I will deal with him.” 

Gerard shakes his head. 

“No. Mikey, it’s not Frank. I mean he did but it’s not him. It’s … oh shit.” Gerard sighs and crumples, his forehead resting on the wooden kitchen table. Mikey lays a gentle hand on his back and waits. His brother sometimes gets flustered when he’s stressed and he needs to find his own way out. 

“Ok.” Gerard heaves in a breath. “Right. Ray needs to hear this too. Is he here? Could you find him?”

Ten minutes later, the three men are gathered around the tiny police house kitchen table, drinking awful instant coffee. Gerard clears his throat like he’s going to give a speech at a wedding. 

“Right. Ok. So here’s the thing. Frank told me to leave the island for my safety. He thinks there is someone on the island who wants to hurt him, probably by hurting me. They have already killed a seal and one of my cats to try to frighten us.”

Mikey grabs Gerard’s hand. “Oh Gee. I’m so sorry. Who did they get?” 

“It was Dee. The guy decapitated him. 

Mikey gasps. “Fuck. That’s horrible.”

“I know,” Gerard said quietly. 

“So who is doing this and why are they after you?” Ray’s quiet professional voice cuts in. 

“Frank says it is someone he knew from his childhood. He was fostered and this bastard - foster dad called Hunter - was supposed to be caring for him. But he really didn’t. Then Frank had him sent to jail years later for a violent assault. Clearly this guy has a grudge, is a violent asshole and is ex-army too so he knows what he’s doing.” 

“Fuck,” Mikey breathes. 

“I know. I tried to get him to let me stay to help him. But he reckons I am more of a liability. We had a bit of a disagreement before I left because I was scared for him. He was so angry …” 

Gerard trails off, his eyes sad. Remembering the anger in Frank’s face as he shouted at him to leave cuts him deeply. He knew he was being protective, wanted him to be safe from harm, but it still hurt that Frank couldn’t trust him to help defend them both. 

“Gerard,” Ray said quietly. “He does know what he’s doing. You know that. He has a lot of experience as a cop and he knows the island really well now.”

“I know. But this guy seems really dangerous and I suspect that he is really strong and is armed. I would have thought he would want your help, Ray, but he told me not to let you help either. I am afraid his desire to get even is messing with his judgement.” 

“You say that but have you actually seen this Hunter guy?” Ray probes. 

“What? Gerard? You don’t even know that Frank is telling the truth?” Mikey asks, shock in his eyes. 

“Seriously. What the fuck? Why would he lie to me? Are you saying he killed that seal himself? That he killed Dee? You are fucked up, both of you if you think that. There is no way. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t.” Gerard exclaims, his voice getting higher pitched with rage. 

“Gee. I am not saying that,” Ray says carefully. 

“What? You’re still saying he’s mentally ill, he’s paranoid, he’s imagining this? You really don’t know him at all if you think that.”

Mikey sighs and reaches out a hand to his brother, gently touches him. 

“Gerard. Just breathe, ok? We’re just trying to make sense of this. It seems pretty weird, you have to admit.”

“It was pretty weird that I would be accused of murder and someone come to the island to try to hang me and make it look like suicide. But they did. You planning on not believing that either? Seriously, both of you. Try trusting me. Frank needs us, whether he thinks we do or not, and we’re wasting time on this crap.” 

Mikey and Ray make eye contact. Ray shrugs. 

“Ok. We’re with you. What do we need to do?” 

Gerard shrugged. 

“I don’t really know. You’re the cop. Aren’t you trained to deal with situations like this?”

“It didn’t come up in my training, no. But I reckon we could come up with something between us. We’re pretty creative and organised.” 

“And Kristin can sail.” 

Gerard tilts his head at Mikey, questioning. 

Mikey blushes. “We’re going to need to get to the island unnoticed. If that guy can do it he’ll know when Brian regularly visits. We need to avoid times he can predict we could arrive. And Kristin sails.” 

“And you know that, how?” Gerard teases. 

“Shut up.” 

“No.” Gerard grins. 

“Fuck off. We have something serious to do. Stop getting distracted.” 

“Aw. Spoilsport.”

“Yep. Shut up big brother or I won’t help rescue your boyfriend.” Mikey snarks. 

“Ok. Ok. So Kristin can sail. How about you ask her to join us? She’ll need to be part of the plan.” 

While Mikey texts Kristin, Gerard continues. 

“We need to work out how to deal with a dangerous and vengeful soldier. When I put it like that it sounds so easy.” 

Mikey looks up from his phone. 

“I would feel much more comfortable if you were a priest possessed by a demon, Gerard, and we could play like the Catholic version of Buffy’s Scooby gang. There would at least be an answer hidden in books. This shit is much tougher.” Mikey looks at Ray. “You’re the cop. What do you suggest?” 

“Be smarter, not stronger,” Ray shrugs. 

“Makes sense. There’s no way we could be stronger,” Gerard smiles. “So what does that look like exactly?” 

“Surprise, confusion, keep your distance to avoid fighting hand to hand. Containment - find him, don’t lose sight of him, control his movements if you can. Don’t let him see us or know how many of us there are. Smoke and mirrors,” Ray lists off on his fingers. 

“Magic tricks. Pulling rabbits from hats,” Mikey says dryly. “Got it.”

“Funny.” Ray retorts. “Look, Gerard, it’s just occurred to me, if this guy has been watching you, he’ll know you’ve left. He’ll be taking his chance now the odds are more in his favour. He’ll probably have heard you arguing so he’ll know Frank is vulnerable and you’re not coming back for a while. We need to be quick to have any advantage of surprise.” 

“Ok. Then we need a plan now.”

“And, Gerard, you need to prepare yourself for this. He is probably going to torture Frank. Everything Frank has said and that you have seen suggests he wants to hurt Frank, play with him, almost more than killing him.”

Gerard’s eyes widen and his mouth opens. Mikey reaches out a hand, tries to comfort him but Gerard pulls away, folds in on himself. 

“Then we have to do this now,” he says in a small, tight voice. 

“Ok. Kristin is on her way. I assume this is an under the cover of darkness plan?”

*****

The only light source Frank can make out is a tiny flickering candle over in the gloom to his right. If he twists his arms he can just about see it clearly but if he stays twisted like that for too long it hurts his shoulders so he sighs and shifts around until he is comfortable. Or as comfortable as you can be when you have your wrists tied above your head to a stone beam in a darkened room by a sadistic cat murderer. 

Frank’s day is not going well. 

He had thought having to bury Dee yesterday was bad enough. The look of utter devastation and sadness on Gerard’s face was enough to make him burn with rage at the asshole who was threatening them. But having to push Gerard into leaving the island was even worse. He had begged to stay to help him but all Frank could see was the look of sadness in his eyes when Jeffrey Clark had pushed him off that chair with the rope around his neck. There was no way he was going to put him in that kind of danger again. So he had insisted he leave, go to Ray’s where he would be safe with his brother. It was ridiculous really. Gerard should have understood he had done it because he cared, but the look in his eyes … The kicked puppy face of rejection was just awful and it made Frank mad. He had maybe pushed him away too hard because he couldn’t cope with the look in his eyes. 

The fact that Gerard might have been right is getting filed under “too late now.” 

Frank is cursing his assumption of his own cleverness. He had realised that Dee being killed was not only about warning Frank or attracting his attention. After Gerard had left, he went back to the hollow where he had found Dee’s mutilated body and had a careful look around the hollow. The stream and low scrubby, windblown trees looked how they always did, except on closer examination, Frank found a flattened out area of rough grass in a sheltered spot behind a row of bushes where the man must have slept. He found turned-over, charcoal darkened mud on the banks of the stream where a tiny fire must have burned, out of sight of the cottage. 

So Dee had known where Hunter was hiding and had been visiting him. His trusting nature had got him killed. Frank sighed. He stepped into the shelter of one of the bushes and lit a cigarette. Drew in a slow breath. 

Then everything went black. 

There were a few moments when he blurrily felt himself being dragged and shoved around. The next thing he knew he was being tied up in the gloom. Not his finest work. He’d got captured by a highly trained, sadistic bastard who was clearly out for revenge and he still really needed a smoke. 

Fucking excellent. 

While he was cursing his own stupidity, a quiet crunch of gravel heralded the arrival of his captor. 

“Afternoon Frank. How’s things?” The heavily built, shaved headed cliché of a man in camouflage greets him. 

“Fuck off, asshole.”

“Great. Just what I was hoping for. Defiance is so much more fun that pathetic pleading. Such a pleasure it is going to be to break you.”

Frank yawns. “Oh god. Am I going to get the full supervillain narration? You one of those who loves the sound of their own voice? Please warn me because I need time to prepare for that bullshit.”

He gets a powerful blow to the jaw for his cheek. 

“Shut up. You need to save your voice for the screaming later.” 

“Oh god,” Frank sighs through his aching jaw. He’s really not interested in playing along with the witty banter this egotistical dickhead clearly wants. He tries glaring at him to see if he’ll shut up. 

“You know I’ve been watching you.”

Apparently not. 

“You and your faggot boyfriend. The gross things you’ve been doing. I saw you out on the cliffs rutting like animals. The disgusting things he makes. You make me wanna puke. You’re lucky he’s not on the island or I would have him here too. Would be making him cry, the fucking baby. Like you did when you were a pathetic bed-wetting kid. Beat the two of you until you beg, like I did with that junkie whore.” 

“That’s a lie.”

“I told you to shut up. Worthless piece of crap.” Hunter plants a stocky knee in Frank’s gut and watches with a grin as he crumples and wheezes. 

“And I told you that’s a lie,” Frank splutters. “You waited to catch me. Waited until he left. Waited until I found where you have been living. You’re afraid to deal with us both at once. You’re the fucking coward.” 

That outburst earned him another knee in the guts and a few more minutes of pained breathlessness. But it was worth it. Hunter, for all his bravado, was defensive, easily rattled, and Frank knew that was going to be useful. He just didn’t know how he was going to get free to do anything about it.


	7. I Won’t Go Down By Myself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A rescue mission at night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from You Know What They Do To Guys Like Us In Prison by My Chemical Romance
> 
> Content warning for torture

Gerard reaches for Mikey’s hand in the dark, as the boat pitches and rolls. 

“Thanks for doing this.”

Mikey squeezes Gerard’s hand. 

“I’d do anything for you. You know that. Although I never really expected this. Nighttime raids by boat on deserted islands to rescue boyfriends from potential torturers did not come up often on the list of things you’re expected to do for your brother.” 

Gerard rolls his eyes. “I know. I have no idea how I get in these ridiculous situations.” 

Mikey shrugs. 

“And I am sorry. I should have trusted you more. You have done really well in your recovery and getting settled here. And Kristin seems really cool.” 

Mikey smiles a little, a quiet, important thing. 

Then Kristin yells, “enough sibling bonding! That’s the bay you need to land on ahead!” 

She points at the island silhouette, black against the clear, starlit sky. A tiny rocky cove is barely visible in the gloom. 

Ray holds the dinghy to the side of the boat and somehow Gerard and Mikey clamber in without falling out into the heaving waves. Gerard glances across to see Mikey, pale faced, eyes wide open beneath his spray-splattered glasses, huddled into his life jacket, knuckles white where they grip the side of the tiny boat. Kristin hops easily in with them, having anchored the sail boat out from the island. Ray pulls the tiny motor into life and they putter towards the cove. A hundred yards away, he kills the engine and pulls out oars so he and Kristin can row them silently towards the shore. 

Once landed, the dinghy and life jackets are carefully stowed out of sight under a rocky overhang. Ray waves Gerard over and shows him a camouflaged kayak, stowed away under tarpaulin at the very back of the overhang. 

“Well, that pretty much confirms Frank’s story,” says Ray, looking worried. 

The cove is so tiny and weatherbeaten on the windward side of the island that it doesn’t have a path to the top of the cliff. So they scramble over rocks and use the ropes and harnesses that Ray brought to climb the steeper parts. Eventually they reach the tough, spiky grass of the clifftop and pause a moment to breathe. Ray gestures that Mikey and Kristin will go to the cottage to see if Frank is there and he and Gerard will go to where they think Hunter is hiding. 

There is a moment when Gerard wonders how he ended up in one of those Second World War movies he used to watch with his dad on a Sunday afternoon when he was a kid. You know, the kind of movie full of actors with those old fashioned names about a group of soldiers on a secret mission to rescue something essential to the war effort. The kind where they are betrayed by a beautiful woman or being fooled into speaking English. But that faintly adventurous, nostalgic feeling fades when they get to the hollow where Dee’s body was found and he spots Frank’s lighter and his half smoked cigarette trodden in the churned up mud. 

He points it out to Ray who examines the mud around the hollow. His usual easy smile turns to a tight frown when he spots drag marks leading from the sheltered hollow to the main island path. The path is made of hard packed gravel so the marks of where Hunter dragged probably-unconscious Frank stop. They stand and peer along the path in both directions trying to guess where Hunter would have taken him. 

“I can’t see which way he went. Ray, how are we going to find them? Fuck,” Gerard whispers while trying to hold the emotion back from his voice, but it wobbles. “Shit Ray. That asshole got Frank. What are we going to do?” 

“Gee. C’mon. The island isn’t that big and you know every inch of it. There must be somewhere.”

Gerard groans. “I just can’t think.”

“Ok. Let’s go back to the cottage. See if Mikey and Kristin can help.” 

As Gerard eases the door into the dark cottage he hopes desperately that he’s wrong. That Frank will greet him with sarcasm for not being able to listen to a direct instruction and a hug because he loves him. But the place is cold and the only sound he can hear is the quiet muttering of Ray, Mikey and Kristin in the living room. And he wonders if the ugly sense of dread he feels in his stomach is what Frank felt when he came back to rescue him. And he wonders if he is strong enough to deal with what Frank did. And he is terrified that he won’t. 

Gerard decides he’s better off not on his own and goes to find Mikey. Gerard starts rebuilding the fire out of habit. 

Ray stops him, “any more smoke from that chimney is going to make it obvious that there is someone at the cottage. Ok. So where do we think Frank could be? There’s only so many places here.” 

“He’s got to know this place well. That bastard was able to hide for weeks. And he’s definitely been watching us,” Gerard replies. 

“That’s creepy, Gerard. Why would he do that for so long?” Mikey wonders. 

“I don’t know.” 

“It’s none of my business. I mean, we’ve really only just met. But …” Kristin trails off. 

“You have an idea? I’d love to hear it. We could do with all the help right now.” Gerard says, encouragingly. 

“So you think he’s probably been here for at least a couple of weeks?” Kristin checks. 

“Yeah. Enough time for Frank to see him at least twice.” 

“And he has left what you interpreted as a warning?” 

“Yes?” says Gerard, curiously. 

“So the watching, the being seen, the warning, that was all part of the point of being here. He doesn’t just want to hurt Frank. He wants to scare him, play with him, stress him out, maybe even make him make you leave, drive you apart with suspicion and fear. He wants you to feel like this. Hopefully he underestimated how strong you are because I don’t think he was planning that you would come back to the island. At least it helps us if he doesn’t.” 

“Wow. I hadn’t thought of it like that. I guess … yes. It helps a bit to see the game he’s playing. We have to use whatever advantage we have here.” 

Mikey smiles and squeezes Kristin’s hand proudly. 

“So does that help work out where he has Frank? It has to be somewhere he can hold Frank without being found,” muses Ray. 

“There’s very few places like that on the island. There are sea caves but the tide would wash through too fast if you’re right about him wanting to torture Frank. It needs to be somewhere undercover, hidden, isolated. But maybe he’s found somewhere we never did. I mean, I never thought about Unig in that way before, but Hunter did.” 

Gerard’s mind begins to whirl with the possibilities. With all the ways his island home could be a place where monsters could hide. Before this he had only ever thought of the creatures and ghosts who he shared the island with as mysterious and benign. Now there is menace in the isolation. 

His heart beats loud in his ears, the spiral of anxiety growing. He tries to slow his breathing by focusing on the painting on his living room wall. And suddenly it’s obvious. 

*****

Frank is again disturbed by the crunch of boots on gravel and the snick of a lighter as another small candle is lit. 

This time Hunter doesn’t speak. He lays out a roll of tools on the ground in front of Frank. They catch the light, gleaming and flickering as the candle sputters a little in a draught. They are all a little too shiny and sharp looking for Frank’s comfort. He twists his arms in their restraints, his shoulders now singing too much with pain to find any position relatively comfortable. He has also realised what TV and movies never show about being captured and tied up - that above the solitude and fear, above whatever hopelessness and pain may ensue, the worst feeling is the shame and humiliation of having lost control over his bodily functions. Having tried hard to hold on, the hot, wet shame of pissing himself - and now standing in cooling, damp, itchy jeans - is more powerful than any threat at making him want to acquiesce to his captor. 

He understands now that Hunter was playing with him before. Playing a part to let him think he had some control, had a chance to fight back. When actually the guy was willing to just wait Frank out, take it slow, let him destroy himself from the inside, and was far smarter than he had expected. 

And of course he could outdo Frank in waiting until he had all the control he wanted. It was Hunter that Frank had learned this from. 

For the first time, Frank felt any hope of rescue, of wriggling out of his bonds, of manipulating Hunter into letting him go, ebb away. 

He closed his eyes, hung his head and sobbed. 

Hunter smiled. He was nearly ready for the next stage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short chapter for you with Frank heading into despair.


End file.
